


i said hey! (would you come with me?)

by xxpaynoxx



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:12:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shuts his eyes and thinks of someone else, of pale skin turned purple from flashing lights, of hands tight on his hips, of pink lips against his neck, licking across his neck tattoo. He thinks of early mornings, a blurry face with glassy brown eyes, of hands cupping his face and smooth thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. He thinks of late nights, of pearly white teeth flashing from a dazed smile, of a firm hold on his hand as his feet pound against pavement, of the cold metal of a car hood and a warm shoulder to rest his head on as a warm sweatshirt was draped around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i said hey! (would you come with me?)

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on Afrojack's music video for his new single "Hey", featuring Fais. I highly recommend it.

Neymar was happy. Really, he _was_.

(Emphasis on the past tense, obviously.)

He _had_ everything, he had a beautiful boyfriend, a gorgeous house, everything he’s ever wanted. Sure, Óscar is a little busy a lot of the time, but for the most part he loves him, and the sex is fantastic.

Until the day he doesn’t.

It happens gradually; Óscar gets busier, he starts taking phone calls more. There’s a girl on the other end, Neymar can tell from the way she giggles. Neymar doesn’t ask about it, who it is or what they talk about, but he knows. They barely sleep together in the same bed anymore. Neymar can count on his fingers how many times he’s fallen asleep with Óscar’s body pressed against his back in the past month. They argue more, about trivial things. It’s a downhill spiral.

It escalates in the summer, as everything does. 

He’s getting ready one day, running his fingers through his hair, and Óscar comes in after him, arm curling around his front and a stray finger moving to trace his abs underneath of his shirt. Neymar shudders against his cold finger, and Óscar wraps his other arm around his neck, pulling him flush with his chest. “Hey, baby,” he whispers in Neymar’s ear, and it chills him, because it sounds robotic; there’s no affection behind it. 

But of course, Neymar plays along, but he can’t ignore the ache that’s starting to form in his heart. 

Óscar murmurs something in Portuguese that Neymar can’t decipher, but he feels Óscar’s hand turning his face to the side, and Neymar sighs, closing his eyes as he feels Óscar’s breath on his lips.

The phone rings.

The moment is broken, just like that, and Neymar sighs again as Óscar reaches down into his pocket, eyebrows furrowed as he pulls his phone out, and rolls his eyes.

“It’s David. I’ll be right back,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against Neymar’s cheek as he walks out, putting the phone up to his ear and laughing at something David says on the other end.

Neymar runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes sliding shut. Óscar won’t be right back for a while, he knows it, because this has happened plenty of times before. He goes on missing spells, returning late at night smelling like perfume or beer, or a mixture of both, clothes hanging off of his body haphazardly, buttons undone in questionable places.

The thought that Óscar was probably sleeping with some other girl during the day and coming home and whispering the same things into Neymar’s ear as he fucked him made him sick to his stomach. 

Neymar decides to follow him out, into the backyard. The sun glances off of the choppy waters of the backyard pool, and Neymar walks to the edge, leaning on the glass barrier as he looks across the ocean.

He shuts his eyes and thinks of someone else, of pale skin turned purple from flashing lights, of hands tight on his hips, of pink lips against his neck, licking across his neck tattoo. He thinks of early mornings, a blurry face with glassy brown eyes, of hands cupping his face and smooth thumbs brushing across his cheekbones. He thinks of late nights, of pearly white teeth flashing from a dazed smile, of a firm hold on his hand as his feet pound against pavement, of the cold metal of a car hood and a warm shoulder to rest his head on as a warm sweatshirt was draped around him.

Did he really give that up for Óscar? Was it _really_ worth it?

Maybe it was, once upon a time. It was a nice place, a nice location, but it’s lost its glamour as he looks over and sees Óscar leaning down and holding the face of a slim, pale girl in the pool. She’s wearing a cream bikini top and floral bottoms, and she looks a little _too_ close for comfort as her hands wander across his face.

Neymar sighs, crossing his arms, and waits for Óscar to realize he’s actually there. Of course, he does, looking over with a flash of horror, fear and then dismissiveness as he holds his hand up, making a face at him like _why are you so pissed?_

The fact is, he’s too close with that girl, and from her voice, she’s the one that he’s been talking to late at night.

Neymar feels sick.

So, in that moment, he makes a decision.

His phone vibrates, and apparently the person he was thinking of had gotten to it first.

_Leo: Hey!_

His fingers hover over the keyboard, unsure of what to say. There hadn’t been any closure with them, no goodbyes, just an end. He’d dropped off the face of the earth, because that’s what he does (it hurt him, but now, he isn’t at all surprised because that’s who he is), and Óscar had come to pick up what was left of him. Granted, neither party was at fault; they had been messing around, that was all.

Still, he misses his pale skin, his kind brown eyes, his white-toothed smile.

So, he texts him back.

_Hi! Can you come by the house? I gotta get out._

Neymar hadn’t really talked to anyone about his issue with Óscar; Gerard knew, at least enough to know that Neymar wasn’t happy. He wouldn’t be surprised if Leo knew through him what had been happening. As the three dots appear at the bottom of the conversation, he holds his breath.

_Leo: Be there in five. Get your stuff._

He’s really doing this.

Neymar heads inside, throwing everything he thinks he’ll need in a bag, before leaving it in the driveway. He walks back out into the backyard, and the girl has gotten closer to Óscar, who is now sitting on the side of the pool, his thumb caressing her face as he talks on the phone. He hasn’t looked in Neymar’s direction the entire time.

There’s an engine in the distance, and Neymar prays.

Five minutes pass by, the longest five minutes of Neymar’s entire life, before he sees movement out in the front of the house. There’s a flash of a black shirt, and Neymar’s heart soars as he sees Leo come through the foliage and appear in the backyard, like a godsend.

Óscar stands up, mouth open and poised to say something, but Leo doesn’t even acknowledge his existence as he walks over to Neymar, smiling and grabbing his hand.

It’s warm, just like his smile, and Neymar feels giddy as he runs after Leo, hand connected to his as he hears Óscar yelling in the background.

They both get into the Jeep as fast as possible, and Neymar barely has time to buckle up before they’re gone, the house fading into the distance, and he feels light.

Leo is smiling as he finally pulls over, far enough away from civilization where there’s no sound except for the sea in front of them, and he takes his eyes off of the road as he stares at Neymar.

He looks exactly the same as when Neymar last saw him; his brown hair is cut a little better, but there’s prominent flecks of blonde in it as if he dyed it recently. His hand moves from the wheel to Neymar’s thigh, and he squeezes it as he whispers to him, his accent making his voice sound soothing and smooth.

“You okay?”

Neymar shakes his head.

“Is it Óscar?” 

He nods and looks down at his lap, focusing on his hand on his thigh.

Leo’s eyes narrow and roll at the same time as his thumb strokes across the bare skin of Neymar’s thigh. It sends warm pulses up and down Neymar’s leg, and he starts to question if wearing the shorts he currently had on were a good idea before Leo starts speaking again. 

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know? He’s not there enough for you, he doesn’t care about you enough. He doesn’t love you like you should be loved.”

Neymar freezes, eyes jerking back up to Leo’s eyes, because the words hit him _hard._

He knew Óscar had been a bit of a dick this past month, but he’d just excused it, blaming it on work and other things and not pinning the blame on _him,_ the person he should’ve been blaming. It’s like that saying that people use sometimes: you don’t really get what’s happening in a situation until someone else tells you.

So he nods again, and sighs. 

“I just, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I loved him now, if I just loved him because he was there for me then, but he sure as hell isn’t there for me now,” he says, voice shaking a little. Leo’s eyes widen, and a flash of sympathy passes across them before settling on a kind glow as he reaches over and places his other hand against the side of Neymar’s face, brushing his thumb across his cheek.

It feels better than anything Óscar has ever done to him; it feels like when he used to fool around with Leo, back when they were dumb and thought they were in love.

They were, now that Neymar realizes it, but he waits for Leo to move.

Well, Leo sure as _hell_ looks like he’s in love right now as he leans forward, lips brushing against Neymar’s, and it feels like he’s being pulled apart like an expanding star.

The kiss is long and slow, Leo’s tongue slowly lapping into Neymar’s mouth as he moans, his thin hand moving to grasp Leo’s on his thigh. He can feel him smirking against his lips, and Neymar nearly smiles back until Leo pulls back, his stupid smirk turned into a broad smile as he pats Neymar’s thigh again.

“I have something to show you,” he says, and starts the car.

The wind is sharp and warm in Neymar’s face, and a stroke of courage spirals through him as he throws his hands up in the air. He can feel Leo’s gaze on him as he sways his hips in his seat to the song blaring from the speakers, hands pushed to the air, the warm breeze flowing through his fingertips like an angel’s kiss.

* * *

The road twists and turns, and gravel turns to sand as Leo slows the car to a stop, putting it in park and turning it off. He can see the ocean, the waves rolling calmly across the beach, tinted bright orange and pink by the sunset.

The sand is warm as Neymar jumps from the car. It feels rough against his feet, but it cools them as he wiggles his toes against the grains. He knows this place, recognizes the massive dock above them, stretching into what looks like oblivion from where he’s standing. It’s where Leo and he first kissed, and it’s where Óscar had asked him to come live with him.

He pushes Óscar to the furthest corner of his mind as he feels Leo’s hand attach to his own, entwining their fingers and pulling him underneath of the dock, watching the sun set beneath the waves. They used to do this all the time, and he feels like he’s been transported back six months ago, watching the setting sun turn the waves from the pale orange, to a blood red, to finally a dark purple as the last rays winked out.

There’s hands suddenly on the back of Neymar’s neck, and he flinches before he realizes that they’re Leo’s hands; or, more correctly, fingers, trying to tie something around his neck.

Cold metal presses against the dip in Neymar’s throat, and he looks down to see a necklace wrapped around his neck, Leo’s hands splayed across the back of his neck as he finishes fastening it. He picks up the charm, turning it in his two fingers. It’s a silver _N_ , in cursive, with glittering green and blue gems set into the letter.

He recognizes it immediately. Leo had given it to him when they’d first come here, when he’d backed him up against one of the wooden pillars holding up the dock and kissed him the first time, one hand in his hair and the other cupping his cheek and-

Leo’s hand grabs his own and pulls him towards him, pushing him against the pillar. The wood is wet against his back like it was the first time, and Leo wastes no time in cupping his cheek and softly slotting their lips together. Neymar moans, fingers sliding into Leo’s thick brown hair and bringing him close. Leo’s hand tightens where it’s clinging to his waist, his thumb sliding underneath the fabric of Neymar’s thin shirt and rubbing circles along his hipbone, making him shudder.

It feels like it lasts forever, but when Leo whispers “I’ve missed you” across his lips as he pulls away, Neymar smiles.

“I missed you too.” 

They sit on the beach then, he and Leo lying a blanket on the sand as low music pounds from the speakers of the Jeep. It gets cold, so Leo wraps another blanket around Neymar’s shivering body, pressing a kiss to the side of his head as they lay there, listening to the hiss of the waves and the low beat of the music.

It’s Neymar who instigates it, moving until he’s flush with Leo’s body, Leo’s hand moving until it’s resting on his hip again. They’re kissing, slow and soft, but it’s when Leo tries to gain access to his mouth by biting his bottom lip and licking into his mouth with his tongue that it gets heated.

Neymar can feel it, feel how hard Leo is pressed against his thigh from his wandering hands scoring up and down Leo’s chest underneath of his shirt. There’s perspiration on the back of his neck, and Leo breaks the kiss to attach his lips against his neck tattoo.

“Car,” he whispers, and Neymar doesn’t think twice before jumping up and racing to the car.

He slides into the backseat and scoots back, head hitting the glass of the opposite door as he leans his head against the window, his body sliding again the leather upholstery. Leo crawls in after him, looming over him as he slips his shirt off, planting his hands on either side of Neymar’s sides as he hovers above him.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers again as he descends onto Neymar’s neck, licking and sucking across the spot he’d been tending to earlier, the latter starting to squirm underneath of him. “How so?” Neymar manages to croak out, deciding that playing the hard to get card would heat things up.

It did, because he felt Leo smirk against his neck.

“I just, missed you. I missed having you around, and yeah, you gave me the best mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had, but I missed your other things too. The way you cut your pancakes, three rows of three squares. The way you take your coffee, two sugars and nearly half the damn cup filled with cream. The way you folded your clothes, both sides meeting in the middle and folding from the hem up to the neckline. The way you kissed me, so full of life and love and giving me everything all at once.”

Neymar gulps again, a soft whine coming out of his mouth as Leo’s short nails make their way up his shirt and skate across his abdominal muscles, making him squirm and the muscles ripple under his touch. Leo’s grip moves from the seat to his hip, attempting to keep him still.

“I-I-I didn’t know you actually missed me,” he shakily claims, and Leo pauses to look at him with a shocked expression.

“I missed you like _hell_. You’re perfect, of course I fucking missed you. Who wouldn’t miss someone who gave their entire self to you?”

Now _that_ had Neymar squirming, because Leo _cared_.

He cared about him, he cared about what he had done and he knew what he did was shitty and how just breaking things off and claiming it was mutual was the worst idea in the world. He cared that Óscar wasn’t treating him the same way as him, or at least he wasn’t treating him like Leo thought he should be treated.

Neymar can’t stay still, it’s been so _long_ since Leo has touched him like this, told him how amazing he is and praised him to the ends of the earth. It’s been too damn long, and Neymar can’t help it when his body arches as Leo leans back on his haunches, hand slipping from his abs to the small of his back and pulling him up.

Now, it’s Neymar on top, and he wastes no time in unzipping Leo’s jeans and cupping him through his boxers. There’s an unearthly groan from above, and Leo’s hands make their way to Neymar’s short, blonde hair as he moves down to trace the outline of Leo’s dick with his tongue.

It’s been way too long since he’s tasted Leo’s dick; he’s almost forgotten about it, forgotten the weight of it in his mouth, the way that Leo groaned and panted as he blew him into oblivion. But as he slides his hand inside of Leo’s boxers and slips his dick out, giving it one long stroke and hearing the _noise_ that Leo lets out, he smirks.

It feels like heaven, being like this. God, he _missed_ him.

“God, you’re so _sexy_.”

Neymar nearly chokes, because whenever Leo starts talking like that, he knows Leo’s going to send a barrage of compliments down to Neymar and he’ll come within seconds like he always used to whenever Leo decided to do that. Of course, compliments weren’t lost on Neymar; he absorbed them like a sponge, keeping them locked up inside for bad days (or whenever he really missed Leo, which was basically every fucking day apart from him). 

Sure enough.

“I missed you, I missed you so fucking much that it _hurt_ , Ney. It hurt me to know that you weren’t happy, that I failed at making you happy, that someone else wasn’t making you happy either. That stung a hell of a lot because you deserve it, you deserve every bit of worship you’ll ever get because you _deserve it._ ”

Neymar’s throat constricts, and it’s getting harder for him to go down further on Leo’s dick, so he pulls one hand off of Leo’s hips and on the base of his dick, palming himself and slipping right into his boxers with the other, his touch on his ridiculously hardened dick making him wonder _how he had just forgotten about his own problem._

Leo keeps talking, keeps telling him that he jacked off in the shower whenever he missed him, had moaned so loud that he had to bring music in to cover up the noises he made, his fist curling against the tile as he came all over himself and wishing Neymar was between his legs to clean up his mess.

Of course, Neymar doesn’t stay cool for long when Leo’s speaking like that, so he starts to tremble against his dick, bucking up into his hand as his movements become jerky, the only constant thing being Leo’s hands in his hair, keeping him somewhat grounded.

“Come on, Neymar, come for me.”

And Neymar does, with a whine, all over his hand, and Leo comes too almost instantaneously, fingers curled into Neymar’s hair and pressing smoothing circles on his temples as he jerks into Neymar’s mouth, choking him for a second as he takes all the cum and swallows it. He releases Leo’s dick with a _pop_ , tongue swiping across his lips as he withdraws his hand from his shorts, sitting up on his haunches and smirking in between Leo’s knees, elbows pressed onto his kneecaps.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Leo whispers, pulling on Neymar’s shirt and connecting their mouths in a sloppy kiss, Neymar’s hands moving and curling into firsts as he leans into Leo’s chest. Leo’s hand is tight on the back neckline of his shirt as his other hand smooths on Neymar’s cheek, cupping his face and guiding them both down from their highs, Neymar feeling himself trembling in his clutch but relaxes against Leo’s hand on the small of his back.

Of course, Neymar’s phone goes off.

He groans, slipping into his back pocket and pulling it out. There’s Óscar’s wild face as the caller ID, and Neymar is frozen. Leo’s hand appears in his vision, clicking the red _decline_ button before Neymar does anything stupid. It’s like Leo knows him, can see inside his brain and through his bones, and knows what he wants, what he needs.

He doesn’t need Óscar right now. Or ever again.

“Please don’t leave me again,” he whines as he turns in Leo’s lap to look at him, and it sounds so _pathetic_ on his tongue all of a sudden. Nevertheless, Leo’s eyes go wide and he pulls Neymar into his chest, closer than he already was, encasing him against his body, his biceps rippling across Neymar’s back as he pulls him in.

“Never, never again,” he hears Leo rumble, and lips press against his temple as Neymar’s eyes slide shut.

Yeah, Neymar did miss this. More than he’s willing to admit. But here, in Leo’s arms, he finally feels loved, finally, _finally_ fulfilled.

There will be time to talk about what had happened, about what to do now, but for now, Neymar is content with resting on Leo with his arms around him and falling asleep to his heartbeat.


End file.
